


Eyes in the Dark

by CavannaRose, MelyssaShadows



Series: Noir Stories [1]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Investigations, Original Character(s), hidden identities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyssaShadows/pseuds/MelyssaShadows
Summary: An original story in the world and style of LA Noire. Nothing is what it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

When Matteo Ardizzone was a young boy, he had dreams of being an interpreter when he grew up. With a natural talent for languages, he picked up dialects and dead languages like they were collectable. In addition to the English and Italian spoken in his father’s house, he picked up several Gallo-Italian variants such as Sicilian, Venetian, and Catalan, as well as less well-known derivatives such as Lombard and Arbërush. Once he had mastered those it was easy enough to pick up French, Greek, and even Latin.

Unfortunately for Matteo, life in his father’s home was neither pleasant, nor conducive to the educational arts. A gruff, violent man, more impressed with machismo and reputation, his son’s effeminate manners and studious nature brought him no pride. Matteo learned quickly to duck when his father’s ire was raised, developing an almost second sense about incoming trouble, and a deft hand at vanishing when it was on the horizon. At sixteen, he could take it no longer. Clearly he was never going to be burly and masculine like his brothers, Vincenzo and Dominic, so he snuck into his father’s study, helped himself to some of the mobster’s ill-gotten money, and vanished into the night.

It seemed so simple, when he was making his plans, but the execution proved to be far more difficult. He had no documentation. No birth certificate or sin number, no school records. Despite his many talents, his reticence in providing proof of who he was had a lot of doors slamming in his face. Where he ended up was working as a Master of Ceremonies at a club of questionable reputation known as Foxy’s. The beer was weak but dirt cheap, and under the dramatic lighting, caked in stage makeup and garbed in one costume or another, no one would ever connect the flamboyant Matty R with the missing youngest son of the local Mafioso. Besides, most of the mob frequent a classic Italian bar/club known as ‘Rosa’s’. A lot of cops come to Foxy’s, but usually the kind of cops with plenty of secrets to keep.

On the other side of the coin, his job and the late nights he worked put him in a unique position to act as a contact for the local police department. Detective Oliver Mills didn’t ask a lot of personal questions, as long as his tips were good. The fact that he used the link to cause problems for his father’s interests wherever possible was just a perk of the arrangement. He had to be careful, though. Too many tips about the Ardizzone family would surely bring too many questions down on him. The detective was new to the Vice Squad. A transplant from New York City, he was one of the very few Vice cops who were not corrupt. His idol was Eliot Ness, and he considered himself to be on a mission to wipe out police and mob corruption.

Ray Pinker was the lead evidence investigator within the Central Division. He ran the Technical Services in the department and had taken Mills under his wing, helping him process evidence behind the scenes. Stu Carls was the Police Chief, and rumored to be ‘on the take’. He owned a mansion in the Hollywood Hills and was on wife number three. The most recent Mrs. Pinker was an actress known for her silent films, Doris Haim-Carls. In contradiction, Alain Brickman was the Police Captain/Central Division. Known as a straight shooter and honest cop. His wife, Cynthia Campbell-Brickman was often in the gossip columns. She was known for being a ‘party girl’ before marrying Alain.

Foxy’s Club was located on North Los Angeles Street. Foxy’s Club could be as well known as The Cotton Club or The Blue Moon, but at the moment it was finding its base with the lost souls of LA. Owned by a mysterious figure known as Monroe, an androgynous enigma, with ever-changing hair, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and green eyes some say glow once they’ve drunk enough chartreuse, the night club was slowly changing its tropical theme into more of a cabaret look and feel. The former owner, Foxy, died mysteriously a year before, found dead in her garage, sitting in her parked car.

The bartender was a sweet girl from Brooklyn named Jester.  She was often excitable and wanted desperately to be in the movies. She would’ve been a hit in the Silent films, but unfortunately, agents said she was not fit for the talkies. The doorman was a large, muscular African-American man named Chaz. His hair was always slicked back and he had the looks of Valentino. He also had piercing green eyes and rumors were, he was one of Monroe’s various lovers.

While Mickey Cohen had been systematically eliminating Jack Dragna’s mafia empire, and keeping Meyer Lansky and Bugsy Siegel happy, The Moretti Family had been slowly and quietly taking the Central LA area for themselves. Joey may be the face of the outfit, but Larissa was the brains behind the organization. Rumors said that her cruelty and cold-heartedness even surprised and shocked the older men who were around to see the brutality of the prohibition days. Most members of the Moretti Family were known to wear a white rose in their suit pocket, and to always have the Ace of Spades card in their right pants pocket. Matteo‘s father was forced to work with them or go to war with them, it was a war he knew he could not win. The Moretti’s have the support of someone that even Matteo’s father did not want to get the attention of.

It was why Matteo had come here, to this part of town. No one would look for him amidst the nightclubs and lounge singers. Here he was free to be just who he was, despite being unable to completely untangle himself from his father’s world. He liked it better on this side of it, feeding the odd tip to cops and avoiding the Mafia altogether. He had a small following of fans, and even had a date every once in a while. Sure his flat was hideous and small, but he had the gang at Foxy’s to call family, and they fretted over him enough to please any young man’s ego. Surely, life didn’t get better than this.


	2. Chapter 2

The Blue Moon. Matteo Ardizzone turned the strange invitation over in his hand, looking for some kind of clue as to why he had received it. He wasn’t anyone special or important, not anymore. He grimaced, running a hand through his carefully oiled hair. He’d worked long and hard to vanish into the nightlife of the City of Angels, and it hadn’t been overly difficult. Maybe a few folks knew the name Matty R, charismatic and charmingly handsome master of ceremonies at Foxy’s, but he doubted any of them could pick him out of a lineup. Monroe had taught him how to use glam and glitter to change the contours and planes of his face, changing its shape with dramatic makeup, disguising his body with elaborately cut costumes that concealed more than they revealed.

No one at Foxy’s pried into why he was laying low. They knew Matty R was good for a gab and a laugh, and then he’d be on to flirt and smile with the next bloke or dame. He hadn’t gotten this far by being careless, but curiosity roiled within him. He had a pretty good sense for danger, and though he was unsettled, he didn’t think that following through on this lead would put him at risk. No more than drifting through the crowds and picking up unsavory tidbits for Detective Mills. Now there was a man that filled out a suit.

Laughing at himself he opened up his small closet. Wistfully he thought back to the closet he used to have, at least as big as the tiny apartment he lived in now. There had been some mighty fine suits on those racks, but none like what he had now. With a grin he pulled out a yellow and black checked suit, big in the shoulders and narrow at the waist. Paired with a white dress shirt, it should do for a night out on the town. He threaded cheap black cufflinks through their holes, and then pulled on a shiny pair of wingtips. Clothes done, he moved into the bathroom, slicking back his hair, before applying the minimum amount of makeup required to disguise his most identifying features, darkening his skin slightly and reshaping his cheekbones. Blessing Monroe as some kind of saint for the hundredth time, he checked the clock on the wall. Two hours. Two hours and he still had no idea who the Campbells were, or why on earth they wanted the hype guy for a rival nightclub to meet them at the Blue Moon of all places. Pocketing his money clip and the invitation, he desperately hoped that he wasn’t about to blow his cover.

When he stepped out of the cab, he examined the Blue Moon with a critical eye. The outside was well constructed, no peeling paint, the pale blue lights enticing the crowds to pass by the darkly clad bouncer and enter through the doors. Mattie paused, leaning against the doorway, and eyed the doorman up and down. Handsome, in that blunt, blocky kind of way that big guys usually were. Five o’clock shadow clinging to his neck and chin. He didn’t return Mattie’s smile, but that didn’t faze him. Back home his father had a dozen fellas just like the big bloke, each more willing than the next to prove that they were the big man on the block. Mattie offered a small grin and produced his invitation. “Evenin’ fella. Got an invite to be meetin’ with someone or othah there in the Blue Moon.”

Taking the card and examining it, the bouncer grunted, then gave Mattie another long, assessing stare. It was warmer this time, and there was… almost a flash of concern in the big man’s eyes. With a nod he handed it back, jerking a thumb towards the door. “Go on inside. They’re waiting for you. Fella in a rumpled brown suit, and some nervous little house mouse, sitting near the back. If you can’t find them, ask for Diana, she’ll get you all settled.” Nodding his thanks Mattie stepped through, brow furrowed in confusion as he scanned the room.

Before he got more than a few steps a broad in a long blue dress, cut just right to hug her figure but not give too much of the goods, stepped into his field of vision. He stepped back, a hand sliding unconsciously into his pocket, though it had been a long time since he had kept a piece there. He worked on easing the tension from his shoulders, giving the dame his best smile. “You with tha Campbell pahty, sugah?” Her Southern drawl was sultry, her dark eyes intelligent and offering just enough of something to show she was good at what she did.

Mattie grinned, touching his forehead to her. “That I am, dollface. You here to make sure I don’t get lost?” Her eyes narrowed, giving him a sharp look so reminiscent of his mother that Matteo almost took a step backwards, but he managed to keep most of his smile in place as she turned and led him towards the back of the club. The young man rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, chewing on his lip as he watched her slinking through the crowd ahead of him. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like she had seen right through his glamour and charm to the scared, seventeen-year-old runaway underneath it all. He shook the feeling away. He had learned from the very best, there was no way she could figure out his secret.

Sliding into the seat beside the house mouse, he gave her his biggest, brightest grin. “Well hello there, babydoll. What’s cooking?” She mumbled a reply that he had to duck to hear. It sounded like she said ‘nothing’, but with the music playing and the way her eyes were fixed to the floor, he couldn’t tell. Shrugging he leaned across to the gentleman in the rumpled suit, offering his hand. “Name’s Matty, pleased to meetcha.” The man’s bloodshot eyes peered at him over a dirty glass of amber liquor, probably whisky from the smell of him, and he nodded.

“Michael.” Mattie waited, but there wasn’t any more forthcoming apparently. With a raised eyebrow he shrugged, leaning back and inspecting the place. Apparently no one here was feeling in a chatty mood. Maybe they were all as confused as to why they were summoned as he himself was. After five to ten minutes, the hostess in the lovely dress made her way back over to their table, a few other guests in tow. The women behind her had eyes that darted around, looking for watchers, or worse. Mattie frowned, tugging his lapels up. This was starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth.


End file.
